The Mist of Navagio Cove

The days in the unrelenting stormy mist,

unnumbered like the days on that wretched ship.

Toiling as a slave of the devils torment;

starved of the bountiful riches of nutrient food.

The cargo of this ship of torments tide,

began to savagely haunt my harrowed soul of stone.

The screams of the poor women below,

pulled at the cords that held my hearts hateful ego.

Smuggling the vise of man's demise,

had brought me to a fateful cry out of the misty sea.

"There must be more than all the lies!"

My voice echoed about as if rebounding back to me.

The only other living soul on that ship,

screaming from atop the crow's nest near the bow.

"Turn 'er about, we are to run aground!"

But torments of my deeds left me frozen to the deck.

The crash was tremendous on the impact,

The man was hurled from the heights of the nest,

landing with a horrendous sound, "crack!"

The lifeless form a reminder of this life's mortality.

Here I lay on the haunted grave of Panayiotis.

The blessed ship of my sandstone hearts final demise.

For now under the radiant sun of Greece,

I lay tormented by my past deeds; heart beating true.